At the 2am rest stop, I introduced myself to a girl from Quebec who was also traveling alone extensively. Her name was Marie and we each talked like we hadn't talked for days (which was, in all likelihood, true). I was certain I would bump into her again in Hoi An.
It was a gray morning when the bus arrived. I slept poorly and was fiercely cranky. I had absolutely no idea where I was in relation to anything else in town. I entered a hotel and told the lady I wanted a cheap single. She must've not understood single cause she led me to a room containing a very hairly bearded man in his underwear who I figured I had to bunk with. I politely declined and went back out on the street. The touts were trying to sell me an air-con room in a hotel with a pool for $10 saying it was the cheapest room in town. Didn't sound right, and it wasn't, cause I found a sparten den for $8. An extra $2 for a pool and air-con would've been nice though, but I gotta be frugal. Again I slept.
Hoi An is a guidebook darling. Lonely Planet extolls the virtues of this place any chance it can, and indeed the promise of Old World streets lined with hand-tailored silk shops was what drew me there in the first place. Tourists flock to Hoi An in abundence for a hopefully authentic taste of Indochina. Unfortunately, in the first half of that last sentance lies the problem. Keep reading.
I awoke in my windowless room with absolutely no concept of the time. I pulled out my camera to check. Yeah, since my ipod got stolen, I've been using my camera to check the time. It was three in the afternoon. "Shit on a biscuit" I thought, "I gotta get up and seize the rest of this day". And so I set out in a direction I thought was towards town. After a bit of walking, it looked like I was leaving town, so I headed back. I asked a lady where to go and she pointed in the direction I had just walked back from, so again, I turned around. I walked a good kilometer before realizing that the old lady was 100% wrong and that the town was the OTHER way. Fed up, I surrendered and took a motorbike. It was 4:30 at this point. My debacle took close to an hour to sort out. Great start!
Finally I was in the old town. The famed streets of silk and silver, cobblestones and craft. A river passed along the south end with picturesque boats offering tours. Women in comical hats balanced their wares on scales perched upon one shoulder as they walked about town. It was charming alright. the alleys were narrow and the houses were classic. A quick walk revealed the sheer volume of the tailor shops per block. there must have been hundreds, all poised to make any suit, jacket, dress or other article of clothing you wanted at a price that absolutely had to be cutthroat competitive. Some of the designs they had on display were really really nice, it's a shame I couldn't shop.
The sun was setting, illuminating the streets a bright orange. I had my bearings and was able to walk back with ease. For dinner, I ate cao lau, a Hoi An specialty. Flat noodles, croutons, bean sprouts, greens and pork in a savory broth. I knew my ill-timed nap would keep me up late, so I passed the time watching BBC World News and making headway in my book until my eyes grew droopy. Sleep came, but very late.
Next I day, I decided to do Hoi An proper. That meant buying tickets to some of the many many attractions nestled within the corridors of the old town. On my way there, I passed Marie from the bus and we made plans to meet later. Now, the municipality (or some organization) has authority over all of the historical sights in Hoi An and sells packs of tickets for admission. One ticket for one attraction and they came in sheets of five. Unfortunately, they were quite expensive. Double unfortunately, all of the attractions sucked.
My first ticket got me into a craft workshop. I saw maybe one lady putting together a paper lantern while the rest was just a souvenir shop. Ok, flushed that ticket. Next was a culture museum. It was a room, one half containing a few old looking pots and photos and the other, a souvenir shop. OK twice burned. Next was a heritage home. The daughter of the family that lived there showed me afew architectural nuances of the otherwise unremarkable looking home before leading me to the, uhm, souvenir shop. Finally, a family chapel. This one was a little special because it had a trap door I guess? Oh, and a souvenir shop. So, getting this gyst of how this whole racket was run, I tossed my last ticket and ambled about looking in the shops that didn't require tickets. Funny thing was, all of the souvenir shops sold the same shit! I just then realized what the town was. It was one giant souvenir shop. They make them here, they sell them here. Heritage homes my ass! One woman ran up with a foot long gilded Buddha delicately perched on a jade lotus leaf hoping for me to buy it. Lady, how the HELL am I going to drag that thing around?
I was disillusioned. How could I have not seen it coming? Next, they'll advertise a town known for beautiful scenic tours of the countryside, you'll show up and it will just be a tuk-tuk feeding frenzy for an otherwise unremarkable tour. "Nooo! They got me again!" you'll think. My advise for anyone visiting Hoi An: walk around, enjoy the scenery, but don't buy any tickets!
That night I discovered that I had lost one of my memory cards full of photos. Kind of a really terrible thing to happen. Bangkok to Luang Prabang was all gone. I cursed at the sky. I had comfort in the fact that all my best shots were saved in high-res on the blog however. Still sucks tremendously though, and it did not help elevate my perpetually gloomy mood.
I met Marie for dinner in the midst of a downpour. She was a world traveler, having lived in Australia and South America and now bound for Europe. No one you meet on the road leads a boring life. Meeting dull people again is going to be ahard crash back to earth. Later we went to the old town at night and it seemed to have taken on a different character. All of the store shutters were closed and swarms of young folk kicked up a racket. We followed the clatter to ahip backpacker joint with fratty humour on the walls. Things stayed pretty much on the chain that night aside from a large girl falling off of her stool. She let out a loud "WHOOP!" that had a few necks craning, but that's about it.
The next morning I had abus booked to Hue. Since it was only a 4-hour trip, there was no overnighter. I tasked my lanky after-hours doorman with waking me up at 7, then slept my beer buzz into oblivion.
Riverside, old town.
Road to the Japanese covered bridge. Looks like a set from a movie.
Unmistakeably old town.
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